Soft Hands
by ChainedObsession
Summary: She had extremely soft hands.


"Grrrgh!"

Richard stumbled his way into the sweltering police station of Honoré, his hair wet and sweat dripping from his forehead. He went straight to his desk and slumped heavily down onto his chair, grunting and grumbling to himself, a frown stitched on his face.

It was silent, too silent, and after a few moments of waiting for one of his three colleagues to speak, Richard lifted his head, beginning to study each of them individually.

Directly opposite was Camille, who was staring at him with her serious-because-I'm-trying-not-to-giggle expression. Her luxurious, long dark curls cascaded down to her shoulders, resting there effortlessly. Her face always seemed to look tremendously beautiful, no matter what she did with it. Even when she screwed her face up in disgust or frustration, Richard quite liked it. _She was gorgeous._

She was wearing a loose pink top, and what he guessed were _very short_ denim shorts. But he couldn't really see them. All he could concentrate on were her perfectly shaped and tanned long legs that hid beneath her desk.

Richard swiftly realised that he may be seen as 'oogling' if he didn't focus his gaze somewhere else. He took a glance to Fidel, who was looking at him with a very tired face. Richard gathered this may be because of his small, but surprisingly noisy, toddler Rosie. Richard only found out recently that innocent looking things (i.e. toddlers) can have the most awfully painful, ear piercing howl.

Richard then looked to Dwayne. _Well, no surprise there. _Dwayne had his head on his desk, clearly in a deep sleep. _Hangover, most definitely._

"Sir? Why are you so late?" Fidel inquired, still looking confused.

That was all Richard needed.

"Why am I late?" He growled, "I'm surprised I made it here at all!" He began his rant, standing up and waving his arms upwards for no apparent reason, "Not only did I fall out of bed this morning; I completely ruined my toothbrush, ran out of milk, broke TWO buttons on my shirt, and then got followed and violently patronised by a complete stranger at the market. I mean does _no_ not mean _no_ on this ridiculous island?!" He asked, knowing full well he wouldn't get an answer, so sat back down to show his speech was over with a furious huff.

"Oh. Right, Sir." Clearly deciding not to take it any further, Fidel got on with his work.

Richard was about to do the same; however the feeling that he was being watched still remained. He slowly looked towards Camille, to find her still staring at him, a grin upon her face.

"So you fall out of bed? Is that what makes you grumpy? Does it happen often? Because you're grumpy quite often." Camille finally spoke, her French accent very clear.

Richard gave her a frown, "I _fell _out of bed. It's not something I do every day, nor do I intend to…" He paused and looked down, and without meaning to say it out loud, he muttered, "And it really quite hurt."

Camille jumped up dramatically, looking quite serious, "Aw! You poor thing!"

"No, no, no." Richard shook his head as he watched Camille stroll towards him. He shuffled his chair back in an attempt to escape whatever was coming. "Honestly, I'm fine."

"No! You don't look fine. Did you have a bad sleep?" Camille questioned, stepping behind his chair, awfully close.

"I… Erm… Haven't we got something to be doing?" Richard asked, staring forward, not daring to look up at her.

"Nope. It's very quiet at the moment."

"Really? Are you sure? Well… Well…" He stuttered, "Why don't we play a game… Or something?"

Camille suddenly placed her soft hands on Richard's neck, and then down to his shoulders, and he jumped in shock at the sudden contact. He looked over at Fidel, who seemed to be oblivious to everything that was going on, his face buried in his work.

"Er… Camille?" Richard said in a small, nervous voice. _Surely this must be illegal or something._

She began to slowly rub his shoulders, and everything else running through Richard's mind seemed to disappear for a moment. She had _extremely _soft hands. He closed his eyes as waves of pleasure rushed around his body.

He didn't want it to stop, but he knew it couldn't go on.

He fidgeted in his seat and tried to get up, but Camille was a very strong, firm woman. And she knew it.

"Camille? I erm… I...I… I appreciate your thoughtfulness but this really isn't necessary."

Camille didn't answer. Instead she slipped her fingers underneath his collar, running them around his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

It was too much. Richard could feel himself beginning to sweat. He guessed Camille could probably feel it too; his neck quickly becoming damp.

Suddenly she stopped, "Why don't I give you a proper massage tonight? From the way you're being, I think you need one." Her voice was almost a whisper and extremely sensual, to Richard.

He opened his eyes. He knew how much she loved to make him feel uncomfortable and nervous, but something wasn't right. She seemed quite serious, and it was happening more and more often. He just couldn't read her. He couldn't read women. _They are officially the most confusing creatures on the planet._

He over analysed every word although he knew he shouldn't. What did a _proper massage _consist of? He wouldn't dare ask. But that didn't stop him wanting it.

He felt something for her, something he'd never felt before. But he knew she would never in a million years feel the same. There were so many men on the island, she'd never pick _him._

Camille stepped over in front of him, "Richard?"

He looked up at her, into her beautiful big brown eyes. His heart was telling him, s_ay yes, say yes._ But his mind disagreed. And his mind had been more helpful in the past than his heart.

"Oh, erm…? No… No it's alright. _I'll be alright. _But thank you anyway, Camille." He nodded to himself, before looking back down at his desk, blankly.

"Ok." Camille said simply, "You're welcome."

Richard glanced back up, and watched her as she made her way back to her desk. She stopped beside her desk and placed a hand on the edge, turning to face him. Richard tried not to stare, but she really did look _stunning._

"Oh, and, maybe you should take your jacket off. You seem a little hot." Camille grinned playfully, before slowly slipping back down onto her chair.


End file.
